The next time I feel shamed for being untidy, I'm going to blame it on my Scottish heritiage. Edinburgh is amazing. All old and mossy with the deep bones of realness that Disneyland and Vegas do well too...with painted foam. But it's very much like Ollivander's wand shop...on a city scale. And Claire wasn't kidding when she said it was a dirty city, the trash seems fond of staying in the streets. In some ways it feels like nothing has changed here since Claire was making her way up Holyrood rd with comfrey grease for Jamie's and Fergus's cold, and in some ways it feels like Scotland has squeezed in so much modern stuff between old stones it's like walmart sandwiched into Diagon Alley (no really....it's Diagon Alley)

Iceland felt much more modernly aesthetic and minimalistic. Like the entire country had KonMari'd itself. They even KonMari'd their water. It was so sweet and crystal clear, Andria and I could feel the exhaustion and weariness washing away just from the drinking fountain water. Their bathrooms felt like space stations.

I had planned to try and sleep the flight from Iceland to Scotland, but everytime I started to nod off I jerked awake with all kinds of burning scenarios of traffic circles and remembering to look right instead of left...or left instead of right. Thankfully Andria did get a short nap because she wasn't worrying at all about looking right instead of left (until she pulled out of the rental car parking lot and nearly got hit). It was good though, because the scare activated her Lizard brain and some super survival instinct took over and she drove like a champ. My turn is next. I'm trying not to think about it.

All I could think about was a shower, and our hotel mercifully let us check in early (after squeezing into a narrow alley and even narrower parking spot on our second attempt at going around John Brown's barn...trying to figure out how to get to the hotel we could only SEE as we drove past). It was so tempting to just sit in our hotel room and sleep all day, that we threw on some fresh clothes and took off before we could succumb.

Speaking of clothes. I'm wearing some sort of magical skin leggings. I don't even know what it is, but it was definitely created in Harry Potter world. They are simultaneously cool and warm at the same time. We hiked up some craigy hills and my ears and nose about froze off in the wind, but my legs were wonderful. Such an odd sensation.

I shouldn't be surprised though because everything about this place is magical. Oh, and I found the perfect breakfast food. Haggis. It's like paleo oatmeal. We ate our super crossfit friendly breakfast/lunch at "The Last Drop" right in front of the town square where they did all of their public executions. "The Last Drop" may refer to the last drop of drink you knock back before the pearly gates, or the place you go before you get hanged...your last drop. Literally. There's also a little girl who died in the original house that was there, so her ghost was wandering about as well. It's so weird trying to prop your eyeballs open while you stare at the actual same bricks that have been there and seen everything from breeks to punk blue hair. Bottoms up.

We checked out the National Scottish museum which was ten times better than anything at Balboa park. Oh, and free too. I'm not sure how anyone knows where anythign is...every hallway led to a different hallway, which led to a different wing. Jamie and Trinity would have loved it. I'm not sure how so many aritifacts can be found in one country. Robert the Bruce's sword was enormous! His real sword! I couldn't believe it.

We had to leave though before we got to Bonnie Prince Charlie, because it was so dark and quiet and peaceful. We were dangerously close to cuddling up to a Pictish gravestone and falling asleep. Everyone told us not to go up to Arthur's Seat because it's miles of steep hiking. But clearly they had never met two optimistic San Diego moms who are used to climbing iron/cowles mountain and chasing four kids. The hike was wonderful, half bouldering, half Lord Of The Rings-esque stone stairs. It seriously felt though, like I'd entered a time machine and popped out in The Hobbit. It was all moss, soggy ground and hills... none of the powdery, stark CA scrublands I'm used to experiencing.

Between that, spooky graveyards and a random, wonderful Scottish woman trying to explain "Vennels" to us, it was a full day.

Time to pass out to the addicting sound of the news done in a Scottish brogue.MMmmmm hmmm.